


Sundown

by vogue91



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: He let go to a growl, worse than any verse an animal could produce. For there was nothing left for him in that life but letting himself being driven by instinct, leaving his very own senses bringing his hand to the sword, bringing the homicidal anger in his heart, poorly eluding all the good feelings with which he was filled.





	Sundown

There were no stars to define the sundown. Solely the reddish light showed its contours, evanescent and impure, like his soul in that very moment.

The soul of a man aware of his duty toward an Earth that had its faith on him, after having disowned his past. An Earth tasting only of death, and of a tomorrow which outline was blurred.

It wasn’t going to be his last night on the Middle Earth, not his last sundown, not the last Sun that slowly became darker, on a mystic and terrible scenery of blood.

_A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night._

Legolas should have explained to him the reason behind those arcane sentences frequently staining his voice. He should have explained the reason behind a twilight made of that red so intense to let think about mysteries much more twisted than blood itself.

He didn’t want to fight, he didn’t want to risk a future that he didn’t even know he still had. But he wanted back the honour that his ancestry had torn away from him, violently, tarnishing him with bitter sins, with actions unworthy of men.

He wanted to wake up in the morning in a comfortable bed in Rivendell, looking Arwen in the eyes, aware that the battle was raging far away, so much that they couldn’t hear the echoes of it.

Instead there was only bare ground for him, and  the awareness of those eyes losing their brightness, the languor that masked them, that had chained him and obsessed his dreams.

He let go to a growl, worse than any verse an animal could produce. For there was nothing left for him in that life but letting himself being driven by instinct, leaving his very own senses bringing his hand to the sword, bringing the homicidal anger in his heart, poorly eluding all the good feelings with which he was filled.

He collapsed on the ground, as if that simple gesture had drained the strength out of him. Closing his eyes, he could still see that sharp light, and he hoped fervently that it could find some breeches in him, that it could become the light of a soul that he knew was hanging on a thread.

He sighed and opened his eyes again. From behind the mountains he could still see a few blazes, but now there were some feeble stars staining the sky with their white, bearer of a pureness that was already unknown to the world.

And while the sundown left that corner of the earth, Aragorn stood up, ready to fight so that every creature in the Middle Earth could keep, night after night, to relish in that view.

His eyes shined with ardour, in a silent greet to the nocturnal orbs.

He would have waited, as always. Until the sundown wouldn’t have been coloured of red and blue, of lively colours telling a tale of life, lacking any dark omen.

A fight against the very nature of the world.


End file.
